


Your Summer, My fall

by oujitino



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Love, First Meeting, M/M, Metaphors, Minor Kageyama Tobio/Hinata Shouyou - Freeform, Swearing, an attempt at comedy, punkguchi, unrealistic college depiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:41:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26180587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oujitino/pseuds/oujitino
Summary: Tsukishima Kei meets famous photographer Yamaguchi Tadashi.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59
Collections: TsukkiYama Week 2020





	Your Summer, My fall

**Author's Note:**

> TsukkiYama Week 2020!
> 
> Day 7: Free day!
> 
> All sorts of AU in one! College, first meets and first love!
> 
> To sweetest [em](%E2%80%9Cwww.twitter.com/kahluawmilk%E2%80%9D)!! thank u for letting me use [this](%E2%80%9C) as a reference !!! yer always a blessing!!
> 
> I wish this fic was sponsored by Nike lol side note it’s semi betad so if u find dangling sentences and misspelled words, I’m sorry :c I also do not know how story pacing works lol 
> 
> Please enjoy!! I really had fun writing this!! Much much love to the people behind this lovely week!!

The last time Hinata blabbed his mouth about something in between the lines of paid gigs and totally legal trust me, Tsukishima ended up working in Disneyworld as an ice cream man. Anyone in their sane minds believe Tsukishima would never purposely dig his own grave like that, much less signing up for a part time job Hinata suggested without him knowing all of the details. The amount of sheer faith he has for the red head is thinning beyond strands, slowly, a blink away from disappearing. Tsukishima spent that summer surrounded by parents and their wailing children under the scorching blaze of the deadly heat.

Tsukishima doesn’t hate children. Not yet. 

Admittedly, he still wakes up from the nightmares about rainbow popsicles and the endless banshee screaming. The amount of frozen dairy he had to wash off from himself was enough to warrant a personal vendetta against Hinata. To make it an insult to injury, Hinata bit the better end of their deal. He was only passing around flyers to guests from the square to another. Rumors flew faster than flies and a swatter could only do so much work for Tsukishima. Kageyama proposed to quit if he despised it that much.

“You always tap out of things that require labor anyway. You say it’s acting smart, I say boohoo.”

What astounding friends he has.

Tsukishima ended up blocking Kageyama and Hinata on all social platforms for the rest of that specific year. The claims of it being therapeutic and the soul healing he never knew he needed up until experiencing that horrendous moment in his life. Unfortunately for him and his shit luck, he shares a room with Kageyama. Fantastic.

And this year he finds himself along with the semester crawling into yet another summer that will either end up butchered (again) or Tsukishima will finally hear back from one of the numerous jobs he has applied for. The flashback of months filled with hope—one of these days, he tells himself over and over. Day in and out, none of the employers have called him, now facing the upcoming break unemployed. He doesn’t want to travel home. Dialing up Hinata and asking him for help is Tsukishima aggressively rubbing cheap salt on his wounded pride. Curse him and his ladder of connections in their university.

“Did you hear from Yachi?” Kageyama says over the sports magazine he’s reading in bed. Their classes finished up not too long from each other, mutually opting to kill the remaining minutes in hobbies as an excuse to await for dinner.

Tsukishima half heartedly listens to his roommate. He’s currently getting his ass wiped in a ranked game of overwatch. The wrinkle in between his eyebrows miraculously dips further in, trying to figure out ways he can restore some of his injured dignity. Tsukishima watches the defeat with his hands retreating to the sides of his chair, he resigns his shoulders from all the hiked up tension and leans back into the seat. Tsukishima exits out of the game to cut his losing streak. He removes the headphones to rest them around his neck, eyeing at the movement in his peripheral.

Kageyama flashes him his cellular with an incoming voice call from Yachi. He sits up on his mattress, tossing the magazine on his side before sliding the button to accept the call. Kageyama puts it on the speaker to have Tsukishima drop into the conversation with them.

“Hey Kageyama-kun! Is Tsukishima-kun with you?” Tsukishima notes how she doesn’t sound rushed like most days.

“Yea he’s here. I didn’t tell him anything so you can fill him in.” Kageyama’s statement earns a mild concern from Tsukishima. More than a curious, his gut kicking in like an unborn child.

“I heard from Hinata that you guys need a part time job for the break! Luckily our department is looking for models to be part of the fall collection we’re showcasing! It’s paid! The school funds all of it! There’s gonna be photoshoots, the newspaper club will publish a cover story and then a runway show!” By the end of it, Tsukishima felt both eyes on him, except it was only Kageyama and him in their shared dorm room.

Him? A model? Are they out of their minds?

As if Kageyama read his thought process, he chimes in with an underhanded insult.

“It’s better than the sea world. I heard they’re looking for college students again.”

Tsukishima fights the question of ‘how dare you’ in his throat but his expression wears it anyway.

“Let me get this straight-”

“You’re not straight-”

“Zip it. You’re not straight either.” It perfectly shushes Kageyama up in his spot.

“Listen, Yachi-san,” Tsukishima takes the device from Kageyama. “It’s very nice of you to offer the opportunity but I don’t think I’m a model material, really. Maybe a helping hand at carrying weights or running for errands? I think I’ll fit more into doing those.” 

Tsukishima is met with static buzzing noises, gushes of winds and students chattering over the line. He assumes Yachi must be walking through the campus, with how busy she is managing a club and trying to get them a job on top of everything else. Tsukishima doesn’t really need one, with his parents paying his tuition fee on the dot. He doesn’t want to rely on them for the micro transactions he does on the side. Doesn’t want to be that kid who asks his parents for extra allowance to hang out with friends. Tsukishima is his own brand of goody two shoes, sue him.

“Sorry sorry! I was running around! How about this? We’re finishing up our spring and summer collection. Maybe come by and check it out? Feel the waters? I’ll let Tadashi know and he’ll show you around! I won’t pressure you into anything bad Tsukishima-kun.” That, he can definitely trust more than Hinata at least.

Tsukishima didn’t want to hold Yachi off any longer from her duties. “The proposal sounds great. We’ll be there.” He meets Kageyama’s stare to search for any disagreement, Tsukishima finds none.

“Great great! Hinata can guide you to the photography club room! I’ll see you soon!” The both of them said their goodbyes in unison, Tsukishima handing the mobile back to the other.

They fall into an unoccupied silence, one contemplating if this is the right choice and next to him thinking about the menu for supper.

“You never met Yamaguchi.” Supper boy comments, starting to scroll on his instagram feed.

Tsukishima winces in a sense of cringe and questionable humor. He hasn’t met a lot of people in this university and that includes the friends of his friends. Possibly some of them Tsukishima has passed by and maybe, just maybe, a couple might recognize who he is. Even the people with the big names and yes that includes the air quotes, Tsukishima didn’t bother asking their names. He’s been to a couple of frat parties, thanks to Hinata and even the social elitist ones for academic purposes, also thanks to Hinata, but no he’s never met Yamaguchi.

At this point Tsukishima wonders why Hinata didn’t mention anyone with that name.

“Is he some sort of fad everyone should be chatting about?” Tsukishima didn’t take the popular kids in too well. He doesn’t see the point in them. What’s the use? You can’t write down that on your resume. Kageyama brandishes his cellular towards him, Tsukishima taking the phone to see what’s it about this time. It’s an instagram account of this Yamaguchi in full view and Tsukishima sees the whopping five digit followers he has. Great, that’s sixty percent of the student body in this school. Tsukishima skims through the posts, noticing most of it to be fashion themed. So he’s a photographer, big hurray.

“He’s done work for big names outside uni. Companies know about him.”

Tsukishima acknowledges that Yamaguchi can certainly jot that down on his resume, in addition to his overflowing portfolio. He gives Kageyama his gadget back, he’s seen the products well to deduce that this job is really not meant for him to accept. His roommate seems to be indifferent about it, Tsukishima supposes Kageyama isn’t thinking about it the way he is. As if the employers will return his follow up emails, he can mindlessly look through job listings at any given time of the day and it still wouldn’t change the situation at hand. Summer break is dawning in a few days and Tsukishima doesn’t want to carry on the days losing in overwatch or enrolling into extra credit. He’s not THAT big of a goody two shoes. Maybe next summer.

“You didn’t ask how much the pay would be, or did you?” Tsukishima raises a brow in questions to Kageyama’s social interaction skills. The roommate raises a hand in what appears to be formed into a money sign, Tsukishima counts at the moments he emphasizes on it. He’s rendered speechless and utterly confused. What the hell? What type of school gives that much funding to a club? Somehow the photography group has a bigger sponsorship than their basketball team and they compete against schools. Is that how serious this is? That they’re paying three times the amount Disney world compensated him?

“Jesus.” Tsukishima hangs his head backwards on the ledge of his backrest.

“Why do you think I said yes?” Kageyama crawls back into his mattress and grabs his magazine.

“You’re not bad to look at. I can see it happening.”

Kageyama snorts. “Thanks. You’re not that ugly yourself too.”

He thanks the rest of his puberty years for making him taller and slightly broad so he doesn’t present to be some lanky college kid that only had his height. Tsukishima doesn’t lift, god no. A few jogs here and there with Kageyama when their schedule fits one in between. The strolls around campus did his legs some work but that’s about the rest of the story. He’s a bio major, it’s their brains that get the most physical training out of every limb. The offer isn’t catered to them specifically, although the manager herself can honestly hire them on the spot if she wanted to. Tsukishima wonders if it's out of the history of their friendship or his luck might not be as shitty as it seems.

It could be a mixture of both and other substances unknown to Tsukishima. Should he get a haircut? A facial? Are they going to make him shave his legs? That will be terrifying. He doesn’t want to ask Kageyama because when it’s this much pay on the line, really who’s Tsukishima to say what’s conventionally right and criminally wrong? Yes, the wage kicked this subject to another level of consideration. It’s a valid argument, after all.

There’s no use in mulling about things through and through. Dinner is almost upon them and the dining hall becomes an animal zone especially on Wednesday. The meal sets are prepared with variants but only tonight they are served with a special limited edition set D, including heaven sent potato croquettes made in house, fried to its golden crisp perfection. Guaranteed to sell out in less than an hour. Tops. 

Tsukishima’s stomach grumbles as a response to the need for the dinner set. Kageyama’s already on his feet, toeing off to the door to slip into his mid air jordan 1. Tsukishima doesn’t have much to lose except his patience for the ravaging students who push through lines and their common thief tactics (it happens) that the cafeteria doesn’t budge about. They’re just here to distribute food to a bunch of coffee crazed, running on zero sleep, hangover and miserable students. They can close their eyes to whatever shenanigans that follows.

“You coming? Hinata said he’s got a table and he needs someone to watch over it while he hustles around for set D’s.”

Sometimes Tsukishima wonders why Hinata isn’t the top student in the business department. Although his priorities weighed in pros and cons are his own battles. He can bargain anywhere and it could be the most useless thing like acorns but Hinata will say it’s an investment for the future. Tsukishima bounces off from his position to follow suit, taking his own mobile phone from the desk in case of a chance. He slides into his own shoes, dipping the keys of their room into his pocket.

“Seriously when are you going to ask him out?” Tsukishima closes the door behind them, Kageyama facing him with an expression of ‘are you stupid’ with rouge blotches on his cheeks. Tsukishima’s been friends with Kageyama since high school. He can attest to the lack of dates and experience when it comes to romanticism with Kageyama. It’s eye refreshing, at the same time sour in the mouth. Hinata of all people. Yes the ice cream man memory is staying, it cannot be forgotten.

The building elevator is a no go during the evening schedule and the stairs are in manic temple run style but they take the latter anyway. Kageyama takes the first step to descend, Tsukishima on his back instead of occupying the space beside him. They don’t attempt at words due to the crazed howling from older students, seriously who let the non pedigree dogs out? Tsukishima would drop a hand or two on Kageyama’s shoulder to stop him from crashing into pile driving crowds as if there was a mosh pit forming in the building. They get stuck in bodily traffic in the corridor of the canteen and Tsukishima has to secure his pockets or else they’ll be sleeping in the hallway tonight.

The waves of students aren’t moving forward into the foyer as it appears to be filled to the brim, even overflowing against its maximum occupancy. Kageyama’s so close to planting a foot inside when the big announcement of limited edition set D being incredibly sold out rains in. The woes and war cries are heard echoing till the outskirts of their dorm. Some of the soldiers retreated, Tsukishima wondering if most of them were doing this for an all or nothing dramatics. It’s been a while since college has taught him the basics of not giving an inch of fuck to a human’s brain capacity.

They spot Hinata in the mid sections earlier than they expected to arrive. Tsukishima notices the unfamiliar faces sitting in what appears to be their table. Could be Hinata’s friends. He has tons of them. The blonde with black undercut sizes him up, sending Tsukishima dozens of red flags. Blondie’s seatmate is chowing down on his food, hair shot up from his crown with a bad white and black streak dye job.

“You made it!!!!!! I thought you both died from being squashed!!!!!” Hinata unveils the luxurious set D’s waiting for the two.

God, there is a god. It could be Hinata and Tsukishima will only pray tonight.

“You both owe me one.” Hinata huffs out a grin of accomplishment. He takes the space next to blondie who’s all toothy smiles now. Ah, it clicks far too easy for Tsukishima. He side eyes Kageyama whilst sinking into his own seat, so far he’s taking it collectively greater without managing to throw in a facade. Kageyama doesn’t really need one. Tsukishima bumps his shoulder into his, pulling it off as an accident, to hint at him. Kageyama might be dumb but only he gets to be an asshole to him. Other assholes can go jump off a cliff.

Kageyama surprisingly receives it and nudges him back. They break off their chopsticks, dusting off the hanging wee splinters in preparation to devouring this hard earned classy limited superior set of the sets. Tsukishima always saves the best for last unlike Kageyama who attacks on it first. He doesn’t remember any of the meals coming with a drink on the side, Hinata must have pawned it off from poor innocent souls.

“Oi Tsukishima, are you taking the modeling job?” Now he really feels the tremors of eyes on him, even from the faces he’s not well acquainted with. Tsukishima was mid swallow, now his throat bucking up from the sudden wall of pressure. He gulps it like a thin fish bone stuck in the walls of his air pipe.

“Maybe.” It’s a first. Could be the last. They fall into separate talks, savoring the prime of sets to its last grain of rice.

Bad dye job friend decides to chug down his cold tea, flipping the bottle to the next recycling bin like a hoop shot. His eyes are absolute and golden, ambitious and bright.

“You should!!!!!! Tadashi is super cool!!!!”

“Bokkun ya’ modeled for him last year, yea? Doubt some of us saw it.” Tsukishima’s nerve pops on the wrong side of his forehead, blondie is definitely shoving dirt on his front porch. The distaste is real on this one. Tsukishima sports a polite grin to fight off the devils wanting to spit out from his mouth. He doesn’t need to stoop so low, using cheap insults and sewer esque lines.

“I will keep the advice in mind.” Simple, clean and no stench found. Kageyama offers to take his tray back to the bins to empty out their table, Hinata suggesting to help him out. Tsukishima doesn’t miss the beat from blondie’s shifting expression. Is this guy for real? Does he know how obvious it is that he’s crushing on Hinata? How is it possible that Tsukishima is half surrounded by people pining after Hinata?

“So so so Tsukishima-kun!! You haven’t seen them right? HERE I GOT THEM ON MY PHONE!” Getting harassed is one thing, rejecting a persuasive senpai is another. Tsukishima leans his head away from the device and takes the matter into his hand. He can feel the beams of expectancy growing clouds above him, is he waiting for Tsukishima to give him a standing ovation? He certainly fits that image. Blondie’s interested in the discussion too, his aura altering to approachable rather than to purposely intimidate.

Tsukishima is directed to a photo album of Hinata’s friend when he partook in the modeling event. The theme is unlike the posts in instagram, Tsukishima assumes from the motif it’s for the winter lookbook. He swipes in slow motions to inhale the details. He does one take from the real face back to the digital copy, brows furrowing in a thought. The similarities are captured so well yet the differences are shining vividly in the cracks.

“Tadashi-kun took Bokkun and made him the Bokuto Koutarou. Ain’t that a skill.” In all honesty, the compliment coming from blondie put Yamaguchi’s work on a higher pedestal. Tsukishima cannot fathom in what universe he would consider his words valid and logical. However, evidence is spread out wide from ears, eyes and mouth. Proven hypothesis and human testing have been conducted numerous times. Tsukishima ventures ahead to continue his discovery.

The laughter on his rear goes from one hearing to the next. “We almost got signed to some random agency! You remember that tsumtsum?”

As it turns out, tsumtsum was also in the spotlight in that same project. Tsukishima won’t say it, the words on the tip of his tongue. The oozing appeal is simply unhinged and not even an essay of flattery will suffice to reach the dedication that has been laid out to piece all of this together. There is simply no best way to express the amazement in his chest. Tsukishima lands on the final window, a two minute video of the runway fashion show. He clicks on it to finalize his conclusion for the night. Tsukishima returns the mobile after it ends, their faces clearly dressed in an intentional look.

“So are ya’ in? It’ll be fun~”

Their convincing skills are far advanced than what Tsukishima anticipated it to be. Former models held the biggest say in the topic and two of them are perched right in front of him. Yachi’s words are ringing in his mind too. Summer is in three days. He’s not going back to the children.

“You done? Let’s go.” Kageyama manages to unearth him easily. Tsukishima stood from his place with no given answer. The good nights are short but memorable, likely to stick and cause headaches later on. He files their names at the back of his head for future references. Kageyama doesn’t ask, Tsukishima doesn’t comment on his disappearance. Boundaries are respected and uncrossed.

For once, Tsukishima doesn’t dream about distorted cartoon imagery of desserts on a stick.

—

The university keeps its usual rough timeline amidst their summer schedule. With students taking advantage of the fast paced subject teachings and athletes getting in more practice days. This is Tsukishima’s second summer break in uni, his sophomore year has culminated with a mix of A’s and B’s, prettier from what he imagined it would look. This is his first time staying on campus with no definite agenda in place. Tsukishima has only seen a glimpse of the photography club once, truthfully forgotten. His fancy for the arts triumphs over most mundane things but college has him by the neck and limbs.

Tsukishima trails alongside Kageyama with Hinata as their guide to the club. He lets them fill the air with their usual antics that Tsukishima doesn’t want any part in, prying Hinata off from Kageyama when they start to get handsy with each other. He gives Kageyama the stink eye that goes beyond their understanding of each other. It barrages under the layers of ‘why him? Of all people? Are you crazy’ and Kageyama would either glare back or growl. Tsukishima never wins.

They breeze into a building that’s on the other side of the school grounds. Walking back to their dorms after this will legitimately be a struggle of its own. Like most department buildings, their uniqueness waves in the atmosphere set by the students themselves. Tsukishima inhales the chill that envelops his spine to the deepest joints. It’s a type of unusual frenzy. It turns out the club gatherings are hosted in an auditorium, reconstructed to have all of their works swiftly sail in one area. The muffled sounds from the inside is blended in with a funky pop song, the bass reverberating in the seams of the hallway. 

“This is so exciting! C’mon!” Hinata pushes the door open and Tsukishima tries to take it in one by one. The colors, its entire vibe, the ruckus and whims. Every single person bids Hinata a greeting, a usual thing. Tsukishima is welcomed with pointed looks from left and right, another common occurrence. Hinata navigates them out of the racks, heaps and piles of garments, down to the vanities and finally the pictorial set.

Tsukishima is not one to be overwhelmed with foreign things, he’s done the research. He won’t be caught walking around uncultured, not in any waking point of his life. Hinata reanimates once Yachi notices their grand entrance in the area. She hops out from her position to wave at them, gesturing them over with a blinding smile etched on her visage. Hinata jumps in first, Kageyama shuffling from behind. Tsukishima presses a foot onward, distracted from the towers of lights surrounding the current models.

“Five minute water break!”

A two clap signal calls in the flock of stylists soaring back into set. Tsukishima pauses to observe the intricacies being introduced to him, gears fine tuned together to work side by side. The touch ups, change of clothes and the photographer himself. Tsukishima, from their slight distance, can already tell their heights aren’t faraway from one another. The all black outfit is very impressive indeed. A black choker, amazing. Are those boots? In this weather? Bleached hair. No comment.

“Hinata!!! Oh you must be Kageyama-kun!”

Famous photographer Yamaguchi Tadashi spins and Tsukishima thinks the inaudible fireworks launching in the background is strangely fitting. The pyrotechnics display is over exaggerated yet Tsukishima couldn’t pull himself back to reality. Is this what drugs do to you? But he’s clean your honor. Tsukishima Kei has never touched any narcotics so why is he flying? The world is slowly running back to its original pace, the famous pop track on play is humming intensely in Tsukishima’s ears.

_It's only human, you know that it's real, so why would you fight or try to deny the way that you feel? Oh, babe, you can't fool me, your body's got other plans. So stop pretending you're shy, just come on and dance, dance, dance—_

Your honor Tsukishima is in trouble.

Hinata’s hailing him with his hand on Tsukishima’s arm, legs about to criss cross from each other. He doesn’t stumble (thank heavens) at least. Kageyama’s got a specific look on his face, one that says ‘what happened to you?’ but it’s bigger than that. It’s more of a ‘you’re acting weird’ and Tsukishima doesn’t miss any of it. This trust-fall slash telepathy madness he’s developed with Kageyama was insistently a joke. Who knew years later it would make it harder to hide secrets?

“This is Tsukishima!”

Yamaguchi takes his hand to shake and Tsukishima pedals on the brakes of his chest. He doesn’t fail to meet the hello, accompanied with a courteous gesture of firm greeting. The twitch under his eye is a minor setback, wishing Yamaguchi didn’t see any of it. Their hands separate, Tsukishima’s own sinking back to his side. The warmth was much more of a static, jolting his veins with bursts of sun rise hues and flares.

“Hinata’s told me a lot about you guys, all that jazz of long time friends. It’s kind of cool,” The chuckle pours in like a scent of relief. Mild and breathtaking.

“Okay! Tour, right? Cool cool! Give me a tiny sec!” Yamaguchi’s voice fades into the symphony of brilliance and visions of enigma. Tsukishima takes his cue to step on the side to let them work in harmony. He finds his place next to Kageyama, him and Hinata back to their usual rough housing. Tsukishima, on this angle, acquires a full view of the models in their dolled up selves. He elbows at Kageyama, the latter wondering what’s it about. Their stares land on a face all too similar from one they met in the dining hall a few nights ago. Granted, the hairdo is a shade darker from what Tsukishima remembers it to be.

He must have been gaping at him for a second too long that the man coincidentally returns the look. He mouths a few unreadable phrases to his co model, who’s now making direct eye contact as well. They halt the touch ups with a show of hand, the students treading away to continue on tasks to be finished. They inch into the distance of Tsukishima’s location with strides of finesse. The weight of their aura overpowers their current appearance, proving the fine lines of being an eye candy doesn’t stop at the label of plain attractiveness. It needs that eye catching bite. The sharp edges and extravagant appeal.

Tsukishima thinks he doesn’t have that.

Hinata detects the presence and reaches out for a high five. “Osamu-san! Suna-san! You guys were hot out there!” The small chit chat flows nowhere near Tsukishima’s ears. Him and Kageyama are variables in a place of constants, meteors in a stream of constellations. Together they make a team of regular looking students that nobody will remember. Kageyama could go down as the worst smiler on the face of the earth. Meanwhile Tsukishima only has the ice cream man pieced on his name. It’s anticlimactic.

“I take it you’ve met my twin Atsumu. Blonde, jerkface, literally looks like me.” It’s quite the observation made by Osamu but Tsukishima can’t lie. He never does. Hinata snickers beneath him, huffing after he gets the look from Tsukishima. Suna is on the same footing as Hinata here, chuckling at the situation that must have been overplayed for the millionth time.

“Sounds about right. I think he hates us.” Tsukishima attempts at the sarcasm to which Kageyama adds into with a snort. It’s likely they’re relinquishing the memory of a good evening meal with Atsumu and Bokuto that was strangely fitting, to say the least. Kageyama sees him as another type of competition and Tsukishima loses interest too easily.

“He’s harmless. He cries at the smallest things. A baby.”

“That’s him asking to be friends. He’s a weird fella.”

Osamu’s underlying atmosphere is better composed in contrast to Atsumu’s brewing storm of personality. It takes Tsukishima a millisecond to answer which of them came out from the womb first. The smug that outlined Atsumu’s corners where in Osamu’s features displayed a level of arrogance that set him on a different plane. Human bodies are a mind boggling concept, Tsukishima concludes.

“OH GREAT YOU GUYS MET EACH OTHER! That saves us a good minute. We’ve finished everything here so it’s a wrap! SPRING AND SUMMER COLLECTION IS DONE!!” The applause, Hinata and Yamaguchi doing ‘hurray’ poses and Tsukishima swearing he saw one of the students wipe a tear from their face, adds to the cultural twist of his university experience. Tsukishima joins in with the clapping, Kageyama with his own different rhythm. The auditorium is quite a mess and Tsukishima doesn’t want to think about the clean up that comes after the projects.

The behind the scenes team disperses to pick up on the clatter surrounding them. The models are ushered out for the change of outfits, Osamu and Suna waving them a short goodbye before exiting. Tsukishima thinks the phases they go through varies from end results, whether the captured material is mediocre or top quality. It can’t be in between. It has to be new meat. A feast everyone wants to devour. Yachi hands them the copies of the club’s old magazines as a guide to what type of content they produce and market. Tsukishima flips through the pages with interests moderately piqued.

“You should have seen how they used to publish those. It was whack.” Tsukishima didn’t expect the commentary from Yamaguchi, who’s standing way too close for personal space reasons. Did he just say whack? Is that allowed?

“My guess is it was ugly? For lack of a better term.” Tsukishima sees the rising expression from Yamaguchi’s face. From the calm composure to his brows contorting along with the curves and the pull on his lips.

“Ugly? UGLY? IT WAS HIDEOUS! Tell him Yacchan! IT WAS GARBAGE! UNBELIEVABLE! I DON’T KNOW HOW THEY THOUGHT THAT WAS ACCEPTABLE IN ANY UNIVERSE!” Yamaguchi is seething and Tsukishima is just staring at Yachi laughing beside him. Hinata’s fiddling with his hand held then passes it to Yamaguchi. He mildly screams, almost dropping the device. Hinata is snickering and Tsukishima figures this might really be a bad mistake.

“I take it the tour is still happening?” It is what they came here for. Tsukishima is always one for objectives and time managing his completely empty schedule for the day. Yamaguchi cuts into the circle they formed unconsciously in the mere time they’ve spent hanging together. Tsukishima finds their proximity too close for people who just met, then again that could just be him not wanting Yamaguchi to see the faded reds on his cheek.

“Down to business, I like that.” Tsukishima let’s Yamaguchi move the pages of the magazine he’s holding. He flips it forward to the main act of the show, models in chic apparel under heavy curated lights. Tsukishima studies the panel well. The highlights and shadows focused and blended into the shot to create a printed masterpiece like so.

“Yaachan said you were unsure about the modeling job. Is there a particular reason why?” Yamaguchi’s words were careful. Tsukishima doesn’t like the show of eyes around him. Maybe that’s the key factor here. He doesn’t like the unnecessary attention. Tsukishima doesn’t perceive himself as unattractive, better at some and lacking in specific angles. It doesn’t really bother him as long as his marks are in top shape.

The question in turn made Tsukishima rub at his nape.

“I don’t think I fit the description. Of this.” Emphasizing on the old project that’s been inscribed on paper. Yamaguchi hums, nodding at the given answer. He starts to brush his finger tip on the plump of his bottom lip, a behavior Tsukishima associates with Yamaguchi who appears to be thinking. Hinata and Yachi are in their own zestful chit chat on the side, Kageyama on his left reading columns he found on the magazines.

The sense of calm that it gave Tsukishima makes him jump the gun. The irrationality he tucks in as a display of what ifs and roads he would rather tread into now than later when it all dissolves away.

“Screw it. I’m in.” 

(And all the screams of huzzah and accomplishment that bombarded the vicinity of the building’s auditorium reminded Tsukishima of the intense glow of his university living.)

—

As promised by Yachi herself, the work does trickle in timely the way Tsukishima contracted it for him. He still wanted to help out in technical areas that needed more hands, height even, just to try and compensate back the labor he thinks he should be doing for the pay.

“It’s totally stupid but that’s totally you sticking logic wherever you want.” Kageyama drops the sandwich on his palm, taking the seat in front of the blonde. It’s Tsukishima’s second day as a helper for the photography club and lunch shouldn’t be this prickly, yet here they are.

“Is there an ounce of shame on you? Oh wait, wrong question. How do you live like that?” Tsukishima makes wide hand gestures to the air surrounding Kageyama as if to suggest anything. It was a dead end argument that Kageyama bats away with a swing of an arm. Their usual banters are cheap and shallow compared to their former, glorious days in high school. Not speaking to each other for days, not even letting their shadows meet.

Really, all Kageyama does is spend Tsukishima’s reserved energy without asking him for permission first. How is it still called friendship?

“Did you even message Yamaguchi yet?” Kageyama starts.

Tsukishima swallows. “Why would I need to text him?”

Kageyama’s frown masters a new level of depth. “You don’t get to jab at me about Hinata and get away with it. Hypocrite.”

Tsukishima wonders if lunch is supposed to taste like salt and bitterness. They’re out in the public, sitting on tables that’s shared with an area where students in centimeters reach can definitely make out all the words they’re mouthing about.

“What have you been smoking? No really, tell me, because it’s eating up your brain cells. Whatever’s left of it.” Tsukishima takes another bite on his sandwich. Lunch is half an hour away from ending but the exhaustion is already beginning to pour on him.

Kageyama leans into his seat, tucking his arms on his chest. This can’t be good.

“I saw the way you looked at him last week. You think I’m stupid? Don’t answer that. The hell are you in denial for?”

“I didn’t say yes because I have a crush on him.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. Fucking shit. Fuck.

Tsukishima’s unfinished sandwich is left resting on his hands, mouth empty and dry. Kageyama stopped frowning, a brow raised to prove a point Tsukishima apparently miscalculated. Him? Lose his composure? Tsukishima did? From a new type of fancy his heart adopted without taking into an account the consequences? He doesn’t even like Yamaguchi the way Kageyama draws it out to be.

It’s Tsukishima’s turn to scowl at Kageyama. His appetite is ruined for the worse.

He doesn’t like Yamaguchi. Tsukishima knows this. The pounding on his chest is just an unexplainable chemical reaction, a completely normal body response of a man his age. Everything has a basis. A cause. Tsukishima needs time to find the grounds of whatever this is. To assure Kageyama that he is wrong.

“I’m not paying you back for that sandwich.” Tsukishima ends up leaving Kageyama earlier than needed. One thing he can’t deal with is the pride they both wear around each other so much it clashes most of the time. The tension eventually dies down but Tsukishima would rather they stay on the calmer side of the stream. Kageyama occasionally emits massive emotional energy unbeknownst to him that it chokes the lights out of Tsukishima. The blonde prefers to stay on a much more sensible corner, using mostly his mind and practically as his footing.

The closer Tsukishima got to the photography club auditorium, the heavier his steps weighed in. This is nothing, a repeated phrase becoming a mantra. This is a summer job. Tsukishima heaps back into the site and it’s harder for him to feign the annoyance in his visage. Tsukishima returns to his own duties with the clear ‘don’t talk to me’ aura parading all over him.

It’s no news with his shitty luck that Yamaguchi deliberately ignores the warning.

“Working hard I see!”

And it’s unfair really. Someone Tsukishima barely knows but the comfort his voice brings in, the delight it brings to Tsukishima’s empty stomach. The troubling expression he forgets to disguise in a second doesn’t escape Yamaguchi’s stare.

“Tsukishima-kun? You good? Sorry you had a look and well, it was a bit concerning.” Yamaguchi waits for Tsukishima to stand from the crouching position he was in, a box in hand filled with various items that had to be taken care of. He doesn’t have to answer. He doesn’t need to confide in anyone. Tsukishima dangerously meets the stare, the lines of Yamaguchi’s eyes are painted with worry.

Who is he? Why is he doing this?

“It’s….” You.

Yamaguchi is focusing on him. Waiting for him.

“Kageyama said something stupid earlier. Ticked me off.” Tsukishima wonders, too much by now, what it is that really set fire in that talk. Was it Kageyama being right that irritated him? Or was it because he saw right through Tsukishima with only a read of his action? It’s a feat to him and Kageyama how they’ve come so far with dealing with the attributes they don’t share with each other. One is laid back, aloof. The other expressive, combustible.

Yamaguchi begins with the rise of his lips. A simple gesture that breaks and revives Tsukishima in his spot. Who is Yamaguchi and why does he have this effect on a man like Tsukishima? He reaches for a nearby box to start packing the old materials they’ve used for purposes it can be. Why is this silence needed and why does Yamaguchi know that? Tsukishima doesn’t understand the light in his chest. He’s never had anything in there, except the tiniest sentiment for interests he has, no one has touched him there.

“You and him make a unique tag team. But I bet you guys have heard of that before.”

Tsukishima ignored most of what people had to say about him and Kageyama. Be it the good or bad. Yes, he’s heard of that one before. No, he doesn’t think they’re unique. Different beings don't equate to extraordinary. Two separate forces don’t always mean opposites.

“Can’t say I haven’t.”

Yamaguchi hums, picking at the stack of props to segregate them. Tsukishima’s odds of coming across lost gold like phone chargers, hair combs with missing teeth, paint brushes, shoe laces, empty cans of spray paint and hair dyes are limitless. Most of them have stories to tell, memories engraved on disposable articles that tend to be unavoidable in a scene like this.

“Who finds the middle ground most?”

Tsukishima plucks a wooden mannequin hand from a corner, the thought lingering in his mind. When did he and Kageyama stop counting who’s turn it was to apologize? To lower down their defenses without command? Tsukishima found their disagreements easier to handle the older they get. Surprisingly the growth and adulting wasn’t only about burning holes in pockets and back pain.

“We both do. It’s become a norm since graduation.”

Yamaguchi extends an arm out towards Tsukishima’s way, the taller guesses he might be asking for the hand. Tsukishima passes it to him, this time it’s him waiting for what Yamaguchi is about to say. Tsukishima watches him unravel the wooden fingers to resemble an open palm. The next movement turns out to be Yamaguchi entangling his own digits into the makeshift spaces in between the lifeless ones.

“I think your bond with Kageyama is something only you and him can understand. It’s a recycled, overused expression but your puzzle pieces and his, only fit amongst themselves. Nowhere else.”

Yamaguchi tosses the hand into a random box after. Tsukishima doesn’t know how to classify what type of human he is. Does he fit any worldly labels? After validating a pair of friends that he barely knows, who is he and why does Tsukishima want to know? Does he know any cool party tricks? How did he get so good in his craft? Is he swinging the bat for their team?

In a different wall of the auditorium, a crash breaks out their silence and it bolts out the other side of Yamaguchi. He’s stomping off with his fists enclosed, ready to pounce at the culprit for dismantling what could be a prized possession. Tsukishima chuckles to himself, a small low octave his throat releases when Yamaguchi is out of sight.

“Cute.”

Tsukishima clears out the space by himself. A student or two would drop by but ends up leaving him to his own devices later on. Separating the items by category was impossible due to the amount of random knick knacks there was all over the area. Tsukishima stacked them in boxes, placed them in by use (tried) and didn’t even break a sweat.

The buckets of leftover paint are pretty much useless, months passed over their expiration dates. There’s a bundle of hair dryers, hair irons and curlers that are fried. Must be from over usage. Tsukishima doesn’t go over the line of testing out all the pens and markers he found just to pick out which ones haven’t dried out. He’s not a saint. There’s a buzz in his pocket, Tsukishima grabbing his cellular to check what and who it could be.

**Tobio**  
_Having dinner outside with hinata. Text me when you’re back._

“Wow you really outdid yourself!” Tsukishima hears the heavy thud of boots enter his train of thought. He knows it’s Yamaguchi. Tsukishima keys in a quick response to his roommate, a literal line of ‘will do’ but doesn’t send it yet. He feels there should be other things needed to be said, although Kageyama’s keeping natural about everything. Tsukishima’s never paid back any of the food the other has bought for him. He returns them as the similar type of favor. Be it sustenance or other needs. That’s just how it works for them.

“Everyone’s going home soon. We should too. It’s dinner time.”

“Mm. Yea. We should eat.” Tsukishima is fiddling with his handheld device, trying to think of a better response.

“The cafe around the engineering building is still open. Let’s go!” Yamaguchi leaps out with the invitation up in the air. Tsukishima realizes this a second way too late, eyes wide and clearly finds where the mistake has been made. He supposes a rejection is a choice but what else can there be besides sharing a meal with someone he finds endearing? Tsukishima’s distaste in not being able to use logic in every matter is very displeasing. He ends up messaging Kageyama with _‘eating @ cafe with yamaguchi’_ , not surprised that he gets the basketball emoji back. He pockets the mobile back, chest rising too fast for his liking.

“Calm the hell down. It’s not a date.”

Tsukishima gave it the benefit of the doubt, that someone else or a few people would be joining in with the cafe escapade. It turns out everyone else had plans. The shitty luck Tsukishima has on going is really grinding him purposely. Any shoujo manga MC would find his spot to die for but Tsukishima begs to differ. For one, he is not a girl. Second, love isn’t anyone’s expertise. Tsukishima doesn’t want to get involved with bigger names and solid labels. Now that there’s evidence presented for Yamaguchi’s good future and the certainty of him hitting it off well, Tsukishima learns its best to stay on the sides.

He’s not afraid. It just makes sense. 

Yamaguchi’s bidding everyone else goodbye save for him. A few of them nod in Tsukishima’s way and he does the same to them. No waves or ‘see you soon’ is said. Just the way he likes it.

“Hungry? Because I am!” There’s that smile again. The warm, fuzzy, gentle smile that invokes a beat in Tsukishima’s body.

“For once I’m not going to get mobbed before I can eat.”

It takes Yamaguchi a second before he’s roaring in laughter.

“So you and Kageyama eat in the dining facility every night? That’s some workout.” Yamaguchi snickers, curling up an arm to demonstrate what workout meant.

Tsukishima stays on the milder side of the talk. He makes the off-handed comments that Yamaguchi doesn’t forget to cackle at and Tsukishima will never admit how he likes hearing his voice like this. He can’t compare it to anyone else, having dating experience next to nothing. Yea, Kageyama has all the right to call him a hypocrite. Only he can call him that. Tsukishima pushes the cafe’s door open, holding the door once he’s in to let Yamaguchi follow. They vacate a table on the right by the glass window, menus placed in front of them with cups of iced water provided.

“I usually get their pasta bowls. They’re delish. The chicken parm is good too.”

Tsukishima thinks Yamaguchi might be the first person he can trust off the bat when it comes to any type of recommendation. He has an eye for, well, sense and genius. Food can be an off topic but Tsukishima won’t be surprised if it’s better than what he expected. He doesn’t want to keep Yamaguchi on a pedestal from all the works he’s seen from him. Difficult but the expectancy for someone like him and the built up pressure is a wall and Tsukishima doesn’t want to end up facing the same one. He wants to look at Yamaguchi under his own lens.

“I’ll get the chicken alfredo then.” Tsukishima places the menu down on the flat surface.

“Ooooo~ nice choice. Did you want to start on anything like fries or garlic bread?” Yamaguchi flips the menu to check out the rest of the appetizers. “Most of them are oily. Not much of a choice.”

The waiter comes back to their table to ask for their order. Tsukishima asks him for his appetizer recommendation and orders it along with the rest of their food. He finishes it with a small beam that ends when the waiter leaves to put their order in. Yamaguchi takes a sip of his water. Sitting in front of each other like this brought in the blocks of ice one of them has to shatter to get through. Tsukishima wants to offer his two cents, to ask some generic questions and get unsuspecting answers back. His honest opinions and the way he perceives Yamaguchi’s work. Is it enough?

“What changed your mind?” It’s always Yamaguchi that starts them off like this.

Tsukishima knows what he’s talking about. There’s no use in segwaying. “If I say money?”

Yamaguchi does this shrug with his eyebrows raising, expression smug. “We all have our situations. No one should judge you for it. Hinata said you work like you mean it though work in this area might not be the same, as what he said too. I think none of us expected you to, I’m not surprised you said yes because the pay is off the charts. You’re not the first.”

The tone in his voice is distinct. Something witty and mature in a tough way. The warmth is gone but it wasn’t vile. It was more of an observation, a pull on experience. A comparison. Tsukishima tucks away his real reason. A simple one he can’t be convinced to reveal for reasons that will harm his preserved image, whatever’s left of it after disneyland. It’s Tsukishima’s turn to take a swig of his water, the cold spreading in his throat massively.

“It’s intriguing. That I could say.”

“And the rest?” Yamaguchi bites the first time.

Tsukishima’s brain.exe delays for a second. “I’ll let you know in due time.”

The food slides in after a decent amount of time, Tsukishima affording the luxury to think of subjects to talk about. Yamaguchi indulges all of them, even at the stalemate ones. Tsukishima thinks that could probably be a social skill he’s learned. Questions he has to answer, repetitive ones Yamaguchi goes through day in and night out. Compliments and criticism he faces that Tsukishima wants to synthesize but he is in no spot to be doing that. His credentials don’t have what it takes to give that speech. Tsukishima can simply look. He can inhale as much but the smoke he exhales is his alone.

Tsukishima thanks his newfound good luck for not choking at any second in their meal. He remembers well to chew first, not too fast and not too slow. Their topics are rollercoaster like, from the really high dips of thrill down to fast lanes of adrenaline. Stories of sleepless nights and rivers of ideas that Yamaguchi washes over blank canvases any time he can. Tsukishima boldly calls him a talent, to which Yamaguchi fairly denies. People inspire people. Art inspires creation. Words ruling imagination. Yamaguchi’s own depiction of his design is a brew of his self indulgence, aesthetic blend, hints and pieces of himself. His raw, living self—Tsukishima thinks is infinite.

Yamaguchi beats him to paying off their meal. Tsukishima is left to pick the option of paying for the next one, simply assuming there is one and Yamaguchi takes it as a challenge. Tsukishima’s dorm is on the way along Yamaguchi’s own, leaving him again with the choice of walking Yamaguchi back to his place. It’s a safe bet to run down. It’s still early in the night with students walking from one road to another. It’s not just them under these light poles yet Tsukishima is blinded. He doesn’t feel them here. Yamaguchi’s existence has already occupied his spaces left for things Tsukishima doesn’t even know what it’s for.

“I’m gonna be so busy tomorrow.” Yamaguchi groans.

“What’s tomorrow?” Tsukishima pipes in, their walking pace slow enough to fit in another conversation before they arrive at Yamaguchi’s dorm.

“Collection is coming in. We have to check all of them. That reminds me, I’m going to send you the schedule of the fittings, shoots and location address.” Yamaguchi tugs his mobile out to compile said information. Tsukishima feels the buzz in his pocket, must be the same text Yamaguchi just mentioned.

“I sent it to Kageyama too. I should ask this beforehand, how far do you think you can go for this?”

Tsukishima jerks a brow up. “In terms of?”

Yamaguchi tilts his head to the opposite angle, arms folding on his chest. “What do you want people to see? Your visual? How should the audience receive you? Do you want to come off as a different persona of yourself?”

Tsukishima hasn’t thought about the modelling itself literally happening. He still can’t see himself standing in front of heavy lights, wearing names and getting angles captured by Yamaguchi. What does he do then? Stand? Pose? Act out with dramatics?

“Isn’t the concept Fall?” Tsukishima throws back a question.

“Correct. Do you want to stick on that idea? You saw Atsumu-san and Bokuto-san’s work, right? Did that seem to fit winter for you?” Yamaguchi definitely knows how to hold a discussion. He knows the technicalities, the routes to go to reach a certain place. Tsukishima feels the shiver on his skin, crawling at his nerves. His body’s reaction to Yamaguchi sounding professional is uncanny, what is he doing to him?

Tsukishima remembers it to be more of a ‘you want this’ than winter solstice itself. “No. I don’t think so. Wasn’t that a marketing tactic though?”

Yamaguchi is sent laughing off his wedges, clutching on his stomach. “You’re a comic, anyone tell you that? Yes, throwing neon paint at their bare chests was a selling point. A great one. We don’t just take photos, Tsukishima-kun. We want people to look at them, to feel them and to remember it. I want them to dream about my success.”

It’s Tsukishima’s turn to chuckle, his tone not offensive. He’s beyond impressed. “You’re ambitious, why are you even still here? Go out there and grab your title.” Their eyes meet, under the shadows of the peering moonlight. The sensation in Tsukishima’s chest is growing in magnitudes, screaming at him to suppress it or it’ll move by itself.

“OI TSUKISHIMA! Tadashi, that you?” Great. It’s Hinata.

“HINATAAAAAAAAA!” And Yamaguchi’s off running to jump at Hinata who’s doing the same. Tsukishima shifts and Kageyama’s walking towards him, expression stable. He’s happy. Tsukishima sees the glint, something must have happened in his favor. He wants to tease him but it can wait. Tsukishima just slips in a smug accompanied with a smile and Kageyama already knows what he’s thinking.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Did you guys make up? That’s fast.” It’s strange to see Hinata wrapped around Yamaguchi like he’s been doing it for the longest. Tsukishima wants to wrinkle his nose but he controls it. Behave yourself, you’re a human with a functioning brain.

“We didn’t fight. He just owes me a sandwich.” Kageyama’s strolling off first, the faint carmine on his ears and neck are stretching.

“Well, we’re off this way. I’ll see you soon Tsukishima-kun!” Yamaguchi and Hinata are waving him off, Tsukishima raising his hand mid way to say his good night. He doesn’t wait for them to disappear off in the dark of the pavement, Tsukishima goes on his way. Yamaguchi’s words are stuck on his senses. What does he want to show? How confident is he with his own skills? For a nobody like him who’s only been living a mundane lifestyle, what is there for Tsukishima to declare?

—

The rundown and brainstorming of their lineups are tortuous. Yamaguchi has Tsukishima and Kageyama sitting at a long table amongst the team leaders of their group. They’ve seen the products, details to work with and the concept isn’t near groundbreaking. Autumn is hazy, melancholic and the turn of a breeze. They all suggest ideas to turn it hot like fires from hell, to douse the models with greens and ice. Call them kings and make the viewers bow down to them. Yamaguchi says it’s too thick to start with, messy and classist. He wants it to fit a specific imagery, a tone, a spectrum.

The room’s ambiance is unbalanced, unfiltered. Livid and flowing.

“What about change? Development? Autumn is about that.”

Yamaguchi’s grin is full. The table members are calculating, coordinating notions and picking on the printed samples of outfits to match this proposal. Tsukishima is eyeing at Yamaguchi jotting down his own vision on the whiteboard. Tsukishima thought about it for a good while, assuming it would fit people like him and Kageyama who are flightless. It could be monopolized with symbolics, colors and fusions of statements. It can be taken as is.

“A season of murder.” Yamaguchi writes in big black ink.

Kageyama switches his gaze to Tsukishima after reading the words on the board. He seems to have gotten the connections of the idea.

“Did you mean crows?” Tsukishima wants to clarify how this would work as a foundation of their title.

Yamaguchi sets the marker down, taking the seat provided to him. “Indeed. They’re a double edged sword. They’re mostly seen as bad omen but there is greatness in them. Transformation and growth.”

The dots all click together and Tsukishima’s breath is again taken away by the genius of Yamaguchi’s innovation. A man like him would never settle for a generic type of fad. If Yamaguchi has to, he will invent it himself and call it how he sees it. Tsukishima falls and falls. In moments unpredictable and unexpected. To Yamaguchi Tadashi’s entirety—his volcanic self, lazy rivers of still and sound, the gusts behind his trail.

They enter the week of test shots after the coordinators have finalized their outline of fits. Kageyama points out group shots will be more comfortable as a starter than doing solos. Tsukishima agrees to this. Yamaguchi lets them play on their own, snapping continuously at their trials. He gives them directions, use of props and lights to jazz into. Tsukishima searched up some vogue posing 101 from the internet, the use of limbs and flexibility makes him tab out in less than a minute.

He’s really on his own here.

Kageyama’s been steady so far. He was given a chair with long legs to work with. Tsukishima leans with his back on Kageyama’s side, a leg pointed out and his head dipped sideways. Yamaguchi takes it, flashing them a hand as a signal of pause. He calls in some of the make up team, huddling them in a circle.

“You’re tense. Lighten up a bit.”

“You say that like I’ve done this before.” Tsukishima peers at them both with the clothing they’ve been put into. Red polyester varsity jackets, Kageyama sporting a long zebra cardigan inside his and a white shirt. His accessories are loud, hair waxed above his forehead. Tsukishima also in a white tucked in shirt, a chain hanging on his belt hoop and black ripped jeans. They have him change to contacts, feeling a bit bare without his glasses on.

For a tryout, this might have been too extravagant. But who’s Tsukishima to doubt it?

“I was told to vibe and move it. Guess it’s working?”

Tsukishima snorts, followed by shrugging the jacket off his shoulders. “Let me guess, Hinata?”

Kageyama nods, shifting his body to face Tsukishima, legs agape. The sound of Yamaguchi’s camera click has them both glancing at him. His expression of ‘keep going you’re doing great’ has Tsukishima asking ‘at what’ and Kageyama just settles in it like a hot cool bath.

“Talking apparently works while moving.” Two clicks.

“Great. Let’s talk more.” Tsukishima sways freely, the metal rings in his fingers goes well around his hips. He’s inching into Kageyama then backing up, the jacket staying off his shoulders.

“Here, I’ll hold your chain for you.” Kageyama takes Tsukishima’s broken chain into his hand, crouching on the chair with arms resting on his lap. It’s suggestive, a read in between the lines.

“I’m not a dog.” Tsukishima doesn’t hold off on showing mild irritation through his eyes, turning his whole physique to meet Kageyama. He grabs at Kageyama’s collar, something he’s never done in their years of friendship. After the camera clicks, Yamaguchi is toeing off to their space. His visage is brimming with reactions.

“I might end up using these. Your dynamics, your intimacy, that could be your fuel here.”

Tsukishima feels the chain slinking back down to his leg. Yamaguchi lets them see the photos for better references at what he thinks could empower their fluidity better. Stronger. He opens them up to actions that they don’t normally use, to turn to those maneuvers and sink their teeth into it. Tsukishima unconsciously tunes out some of it, staring at Yamaguchi’s lines and lips instead.

He doesn’t even hear the discussion ending. Not until Yamaguchi’s staring back at him with an all too knowing look. Tsukishima just aimlessly shifts his eyes to avoid adding more embarrassment for himself. Yamaguchi’s shaking his head with a toothy grin, as if to say focus on the set instead of you know what.

Tsukishima doesn’t want to look at Kageyama because he probably saw it. He does it anyway and the fool flashes him a thumbs up.

He’s fucked. He’s really done it this time.

After a few more days of experimenting with various styles, backgrounds and energy, Yamaguchi announces they’re ready to do the whole nine yards. Tsukishima learned to bend himself better, to use parts of his body as his points. Yamaguchi tells him to make use of the set, walk if you have to. Walk towards me, anywhere. Show me.

Their first off campus location is a huge empty parking lot. They’re on the third floor, with their vans, cargos and changing trucks serving as the makeshift set for today. Tsukishima’s starting attire is a good classic. An oversized collared long sleeve with black and yellow stripes. Folded pale jeans, mustard socks that match the stripes motif and white converse. The amber tinted eyeglasses finishes the whole mood.

“How are we feeling champ?” Yamaguchi’s got a haircut. The remaining blonde at the back of his head is shorter now. He’s sporting a black leather jacket, gray shirt, studded choker and the piercings. The boots are still there but Tsukishima’s oxygen tank isn’t.

Lost? In love?

“Alive.” Tsukishima deadpans, ironically. The usual white background isn’t here, instead it’s gravel on his feet. The hair on his forehead is almost beach waves of its own after a good encounter with a hair straightener and an iron curler. Yamaguchi’s twiddling at the camera, ready for Tsukishima and his solo shoot.

“The good kind of alive?”

Tsukishima doesn’t know what the opposite would even mean, or what Yamaguchi is asking about at all. “Yea. Let’s go with that.”

He gets into a few positions that work best with his outfit. Simple turns and stretch of legs. Tsukishima tilts his head up, his chin pointed out. Hooded eyes and a hand in his pocket. No he’s not looking down at anyone, yes that’s what he wants you to feel. Yamaguchi gets the message. He crouches in place to capture the significance of his image.

“Okay! Good! That’s good!” Yamaguchi’s nodding, standing back up with a push from his legs. He beckons Tsukishima over to examine the photos he’s taken so far. He’s feeling the heat gradually invade his body with the beads of sweat forming on his back. Yamaguchi receives a portable fan from a helper then passes it to Tsukishima.

“Cons of shooting in summer. Here let me-“ Yamaguchi’s pushing his camera in Tsukishima’s hand, taking the mini fan with his right and using his fingers on the left to elevate Tsukishima’s fringe. Yamaguchi places the fan in front of his forehead to air out the incoming wetness.

Tsukishima is unquestionably feeling the warmth on his cheeks. It’s because of summer. Nothing else. Will it away, will it away. Yamaguchi takes the tissues this time to start swiping at his neck, padding it on the skin all the way under his ears. Tsukishima forgets about the pictures altogether, thumbs numb and body ready for heaven. He doesn’t want to steer his eyes to meet Yamaguchi, whenever he does it kills ten years of his lifespan on earth.

But he doesn’t have a choice. So Tsukishima pulls on the gun. Yamaguchi’s giving him a stare, a loaded one.

Fuck he knows. He fucking knows.

Don’t stutter. “Thanks. Is it Tobio’s turn?”

The swift change of expression on Yamaguchi’s face is terrifying. Tsukishima doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to seeing such antics from him. They trade their current belongings, Tsukishima gripping on the mini fan as the pressure in his chest continues to riot. He’s the first to break the staring contest, recognizing his eternal defeat the day he met Yamaguchi. This so-called new found romance is itching into Tsukishima all the wrong ways it could possibly do. Working a part time and falling heads first for your creative director is cliched in many parallel universes.

“Yes it is. You can cool down in the van for now. They’ll let you know when it’s time to change.”

Tsukishima gives Yamaguchi a pained smile, sauntering away to hush his burning chest. He takes a peak at Kageyama in between final touch ups and last make-up applications. His hair has been dyed indigo blue, figures it might have something to do with Yamaguchi’s own look being different as well. In reality it suits him. Tsukishima thinks the lemon hoodie underneath black denim jacket pops off his own sense of fashion. He’s not a vans person, more of a nike huarache kind of guy.

The group attire is half bearable than the solo ones. They’re at least wearing shorts now. The massive white bomber jackets they have to wear on top of white tank tops that hang on their frames a bit larger than wanted. Kageyama’s wearing a white sports headband, the tips of his hair are red now, some type of gradient look the camera will love. The black long socks that reach his calves and air max 95’s you can only get in Korea puts a spin on Kageyama’s wardrobe. The double chains on his neck and additional fake earrings are cherries on top.

Tsukishima’s peachy beige shorts are hiking above his knee, his white long socks and pair of black and gold air force max CB gives a highlight to his bright colors. The mustard beanie on his head is fashioned to cover his right ear while showing his left with tufts of hair. He’s wearing the same amount of bling, bigger rings and a thicker silver chain on his neck. Tsukishima feels like the next high school kid who wants to be trendy.

The biggest mistake they made was to give Kageyama a skateboard. A good type of mistake. The prop helps them produce new motions. Better even, since Kageyama knows how to use it. He’s clumsy but it’s there. Tsukishima can keep his balance to skid off for a bit, though he needs more practice. They take turns with the prop. They’re asked to use hand and arm gestures more than the usual moves. Tsukishima’s not informed of the limitations for posing, what they can and can’t flaunt so he tries. Yamaguchi wants to know what he wants to show so he does.

He raises a middle finger up with his ring finger half folded and thumb standing, the rest pressing on his palm. This prompts Kageyama to do the same, Yamaguchi cackling from his position. He clicks on his camera to take the image. This is going down in history.

“You’re insane, you know that?” Kageyama has the board under his arm, closing in on Tsukishima.

“Please. I’m milder in comparison to you.” Tsukishima’s got a smug painted on his visage. He signals Yamaguchi to tread in closer with a low lazy hand. Yamaguchi is bemused, squatting down almost nearing the grit while inching into the duo. What Tsukishima is about to do, he hopes it will knock Yamaguchi’s heart right out of his chest. The lift in his leg to the fake kick he does that’s a tiny centimeter away from touching the camera lense fills the atmosphere with its missing vigor. Tsukishima hears the click at the right time. He trusts Yamaguchi to have gotten the message.

Yamaguchi is back on his feet, the satisfied grin on his lips is to be expected.

“And we’re done for today!” The applause is too early but it counts for a job well done.

—

In a recent photoshoot, they were asked to munch on candies as a decoration and Tsukishima still feels the candy poisoning, if that even exists, seeing as they had to fake eat and actually eat some of them before spitting it out in a plastic covered bin. The last location they were at was an abandoned building off coast, of course Yamaguchi didn’t stop with the ghost stories. They had a white horse on set. Kageyama wouldn’t touch it and Tsukishima knew the horse hated him. It seemed to love Yamaguchi so much, Tsukishima still doesn’t know if that specific day actually happened or not.

No, he did not secretly take pictures of Yamaguchi adoring the horse.

The more Tsukishima spends with Yamaguchi, the teasing goes further from professional to intentional. Kageyama saves all of his comments when they go back to their dorm, most of them about Tsukishima not doing anything about the obvious signs of mutual interest.

“There you go again, sticking logic wherever you want. Just kiss him.” Kageyama’s hair has faded into a pine green shade. One of his eyebrows has been slashed up, as how Tsukishima describes it. Really, what else is Kageyama going to do that Yamaguchi is suggesting to him? There’s no photoshoot today as promised. They were given one day off to rest in preparation for longer hours of shooting in the next incoming weeks.

Kageyama isn’t the best at handing out friendship advice. His intentions might be good in nature but Tsukishima begs to differ. Kageyama doesn’t even know how to ask someone to be their friend, much less how to ask Hinata out. His defense system is kicking the question back to try and one up Tsukishima, whereas both of them are not doing the best in terms of romantic relationships anyway.

“Right, kiss him. Best thing you’ve ever said in your whole life.” Tsukishima’s back in overwatch, getting his ass kicked again because he never learns. He’s noticing the small changes that’s been happening around his life after meeting Yamaguchi. How the smallest things remind Tsukishima of him. Like the plant he saw outside today, totally random but he couldn’t get his mind off of it. It could be worse. It could be Tsukishima thinking of Yamaguchi all the time and associating him with everything in his world.

There are specific days Tsukishima remembers about Yamaguchi that stood out the most. The one time he unbuttoned Tsukishima’s dress shirt, taking him by surprise. Tsukishima’s utmost reaction was to grab his hand, keeping it in the air until reality hits him. He doesn’t think anyone saw it. Tsukishima gives his hand back, muttering a low sorry for the unintentioned response. Yamaguchi tells him a small ‘it’s okay’, not speaking about it after. 

One of the perks the job offered was the clothing and accessories they got to keep. Tsukishima’s own type of sentiment. Yamaguchi told him he looked like he knew how to carry himself best with the black accent hat he had on along with the green and gold duchess satin suit jacket. Tsukishima asked then if he could keep the hat as a memento, no promises of wearing it outside this. Tsuskihima won’t admit the kick he got out of Yamaguchi eyeing at him as if he ate a bunch of butterflies.

Nothing much has changed with Tsukishima. His hair has seen better days yes. Yamaguchi convinced him to tone it lighter, made it ashy and in recent news, he said mint would look great on Tsukishima. He declined specifically to the last one, saying he doesn’t need to look ridiculous in his personal life. The stares he earned from Yamaguchi and Kageyama then gave him a painful wince.

“You have a better idea? I don’t think so.” Kageyama is reading the newly released sports magazine he loves, probably not more than Hinata. 

“Why are you egging me on about this? Don’t you have your own crisis to think about?” Tsukishima loses another game. He doesn’t know if this is more frustrating than listening to Kageyama trying to help him sort out his not so secret crush on Yamaguchi. It takes Tsukishima in a higher level of exasperation knowing Kageyama is supposed to be a supporting role here. Instead, he gets to act as the main best friend who thinks he has his shit together better than the leading role, thus giving him the privilege to spout nonsense.

Still, none of them had their shit together anyway.

“Point is, Kei, you don’t have to make this harder than cellular respiration.” Truth be known, biology majors know how hard it is to go through the lessons of said topic. Tsukishima looks at Kageyama indignantly, Kageyama gaping back at him from his magazine.

“Never bring that up ever. Again. You and I remember cellular respiration very differently.” Tsukishima pointed at Kageyama with his pinky then at him.

“Whatever. No balls.”

Tsukishima’s at the point of submitting a room change for the next semester.

—

The odds of their themes going from fashion colors, prime time trends and this new mania of cottage core has Yamaguchi inserting them into softer, cooler shades that best fit the autumnal shift. Their shoot location is somewhere around the northern west, a glass mansion that was lent to Yamaguchi by a uni alumni. Tsukishima can finally breathe the non city polluted air for once. After checking the perimeter of their location, it is without a doubt surrounded by trees and a discontinued train railing. A perfect scene to capture the sense of the mood.

The insides of the house is a museum of its own. Finest antiques and exquisite architecture. Isabelline walls, timberwolf sheets and white coffee edges. Tsukishima sees himself in this house, sees himself blending into the beauty of it. It’s tugging at his strings like gentle sea waves rocking an infant to its slumber. They’re given a more naturalistic glam, hues of pearls on their lids and lesser kohl on their water lines. Even the clothes are flowy, keeping the color themes closer to each other.

The restraints of space in the vicinity of the house did not permit a whole team to enter all at once. Tsukishima offered to carry lighting materials to continue their work, Yamaguchi agreeing to do the solo shots first in the narrowest parts of the structure. That means Tsukishima and Yamaguchi will be alone, in the next twenty minutes or so, staring at each other like there’s nobody in this galaxy but them.

“Don’t have too much fun.” Kageyama ruins any moment he can.

“Not when you’re around.” They huff at each other, smug faces and all.

Yamaguchi finds the biggest glass window by the third floor, just in the intersection of the stairs going to the attic. The sun rays meshing into the highlights of the insides had Tsukishima melting into the disposition of their concept. The creams and muted yellows he is wearing makes it easier to tell the mellow hints of the pictorial. He doesn’t forget to help Yamaguchi set up two strobe lighting stands, Yamaguchi flashing him a genuine smile after.

“Talk to me while you’re posing.”

“Got anything in mind?”

Tsukishima thinks he just fired a stray bullet. Yamaguchi rises to the top of the staircase, directing Tsukishima to lay himself on the steps as he wants to take shots of him from the opposite direction. Tsukishima finds himself facing Yamaguchi reversed, their eyes meeting at the same second. It’s not the easiest position to pull for an amatuer like him, using his elbows to prop him up with his head leaning backwards. Yamaguchi captures it fast.

“Am I overthinking things by myself?” And Tsukishima doesn’t see him faltering from his professional stance. Tsukishima tilts his head to reveal the long train of his neck, the dip of his shirt letting out the shadows of his chest. Another tilt, another click. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Not in this way at least.

“About what, exactly?” You don’t answer questions with questions, that’s how it works the last time Tsukishima checked, yet he’s doing it here. He wants to avoid it but Yamaguchi’s stern face is saying otherwise. He walks to his side to capture more angles, Tsukishima using his hands and face as the center for the next frames. Yamaguchi makes Tsukishima sit upwards, arms resting on his thighs, the click echoes further in his ears.

“Me, wanting to meet you in the middle. You, acting hesitant.”

Tsukishima wants to know where this is coming from. He’s not hesitant, he’s new to this. To all of what Yamaguchi Tadashi is. He doesn’t even know how to tell him, though the person himself is standing right in front of him. There’s a bitter aftertaste in his mouth and it’s going all the down his throat. He doesn’t want to look at Yamaguchi.

“That’s not what this is.” Tsukishima stands on his ground, not wanting to feel small in a conversation that’s been dragged out like this. Yamaguchi is still capturing him, in vulnerable moments he doesn’t want anyone to see. So open, so raw and complicated. Tsukishima lets him have his way, seeing as Yamaguchi had his own expression of upset worn on his face. How does one calm two hearts with one rock, without breaking it even?

Yamaguchi sets his camera down, turning his back to descend from the steps. “Then tell me,” He’s taking the camera equipment, pausing on his tracks. “Tell me what this is to you.”

—

The more Tsukishima gets closer to Yamaguchi, the more it leaves embers under his feet. He has to survive hours and days with the photographer, staring at him from a window of a device. Tsukishima has to watch Yamaguchi, him observing the blonde back. Yamaguchi’s seen glimpses of Tsukishima’s skin, whether it’s from the split linen black suit jacket that revealed the arch of his back, or shirts that lacked in height to be tugged down farther south.

Yamaguchi had to run his fingers in Tsukishima’s hair to slick it back once. It doesn’t take him much reaching since their heights are a close proximity. Some of these moments Tsukishima categorizes as part of the job. Some of them he has to logically keep under the business label. He never listens to what the heart wants. It’s unjustifiable. Plain dumb and selfish. He doesn’t want Yamaguchi to keep touching him, that it’s not okay to keep his hand there. No, Tsukishima has to keep their grounds.

But whenever it slips—Tsukishima lets Yamaguchi in too close, their touches that ghosts on skin, leaving a sting and a scrape. When he’s directing them for a certain pose he wants to see, Tsukishima thinks Yamaguchi resting his hand on his hip is unnecessary. He doesn’t correct him. He thinks about it, under camera flashes and curled lashes. He doesn’t want Yamaguchi to stop. Nothing of it makes any sense. Nothing in this love Tsukishima understands.

It’s the first that their hands twined on Tsukishima’s lap. Surrounded by naked flames, his body sprawled on a red metallic BMW i8 convertible, Yamaguchi pulls Tsukishima on his back. Legs spread on the hood, Yamaguchi placed flawlessly in their center. Tsukishima notices the fingers laced around his, laid on top of the leather pants he’s wearing. Until the fires have been extinguished, it’s only them in this burning pit. Yamaguchi’s searching his eyes, drinking him in. The smoke under their breaths is poisonous. This uncertainty, their touches, lingering whispers.

Tsukishima can’t seem to find the core of his gravity whenever Yamaguchi is around. When it’s the two of them, Tsukishima wonders about the things he can say then, to how much Yamaguchi will hear. How can Yamaguchi look so ethereal amidst the inferno? To this, Tsukishima almost gives in. The tiniest jerk from Yamaguchi and Tsukishima is tugging their fingers in place.

“They’re going to kill it down soon.” Not yet. Stay.

“I know.” Tsukishima doesn’t let go.

“Have you figured it out yet?” Yamaguchi asks as if he’s waiting.

“Maybe.” Maybe because he is, Tsukishima chances on that thought. Maybe.

“Tell me when you do.”

The sounds of the fire extinguisher in the background disappoints Tsukishima the first time.

—

Kageyama evidently points at the changes of their relationship over lunch. He’s right about most of it though he’s not the best at elaborating his observation. Tsukishima doesn’t negate him. He’s tossing the broccoli on his plate, munching on a carrot he took from Kageyama’s share. Tsukishima doesn’t know how to form the bridges to have Kageyama see his standpoint. Kageyama has expressed the on and off tension he feels around Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. He’s not their middle man. Neither is Hinata.

“He asked me to come over to help with something.” Tsukishima ends up eating the broccoli.

The look on Kageyama’s face is stupidly accurate for a reaction. “I don’t get you. Then again, when have I ever?”

Tsukishima slightly raises his cold green tea bottle. “Cheers to that.” He gulps down a third of it, Tsukishima only feels like drinking when it’s exam week. It’s nowhere near that season and he knows alcohol would just ruin him. Unlike Kageyama who likes to be drenched in emotions, Tsukishima takes the years with him and runs. There’s no need to pine, Kageyama says. He likes you.

It’s not that easy. Tsukishima finds it too hard to let people in. Loves too hard for his own good.

“What time are you going?” Kageyama’s standing up, his tray in hand.

Tsukishima knows he wants to ask more than these few words. “Around 7, he said.” They both deposit the trays back to the bins to get cleaned up, one of the cafeteria workers eyeing them weirdly at the necks. Tsukishima returns the stare with an equal amount of curiosity. He knows the fake tattoos on him and Kageyama are the talk of the building. The bold letters on the columns of their neck, arms and knuckles are marked with remnants of dingy paint, Kageyama’s fading indigo hair and Tsukishima’s undercut.

“Wait for you?” 

The exit from the cafeteria is bland. Tsukishima’s exhausted from the lack of sleep, finishing up yesterday’s pictorial at twilight’s break. He has no power to sheath his mouth if anyone dares to spit on his way, Kageyama’s always an exception even if he turns out to be the spitter.

“Of course. Why am I staying in his room?”

Kageyama gapes at him like he’s said a bad joke. Tsukishima never jokes.

“Get your filthy brain out of the dumpster.” They take the elevator on the right to save their aching legs. It’s bearable but the pain hasn’t subsided from all the laps Yamaguchi had them do for a video he’s also producing. The week’s packed with changing location sites in one day, sometimes two. They’ve been to a forest up north, fishing dock near south and the empty streets of a suburban town at the dead of night a few days ago. Tsukishima’s hair isn’t getting any respite from hair spray and toners. Kageyama’s on his way to male pattern baldness at the age of 20.

They get off at their floor level. Their strides slow and the cramp is apparent. Tsukishima dishes out their keys to unlock the door, Kageyama pours in swiftly. It takes him a mere second to throw the slides away, jumping at his mattress to claim back some of his precious sleep eye. Tsukishima drops the keys on the surface of their new micro cabinet, courtesy of Yamaguchi. To spice up their flavorless dorm room. He drapes the curtain to shun the afternoon rays out, giving their space a nice lull.

Tsukishima sweeps into his covers with the haze of sleep shadowing his eyes. Close to attaining such peace, his handheld buzzes under white covered pillows. Kageyama’s already in dreamland, the hums of his snore signifying his fatigue. Tsukishima drags the device to check who the intruder is and it turns out to be Yamaguchi himself.

**Yamaguchi**  
_Awake? I just woke up :D_  


For once Tsukishima wants to fight the sleep wrapping his mind. He taps on the window to open the conversation. Tsukishima keys in a quick response of ‘yea just had lunch’ and hits send faster than a millisecond. He wishes Yamaguchi wouldn’t reply in the next thirty minutes so Tsukishima can sneak in some shut eyes.

It takes Yamaguchi a hot minute to text back.

**Yamaguchi**  
_No mobs today? B)) what should I have for lunch uwu_  


Tsukishima’s near dozing off, he doesn’t want to lose this rally. ‘no. fairly silent and healthy lunch. Idk, what do you feel like having?’

**Yamaguchi**  
_Idk :(( hinata isn’t answering me to come with_

Tsukishima, when lacking in sleep, says the most unintelligent things. ‘you alone? Do you mind cafeteria food?’

**Yamaguchi**  
_Alone in the dorm? Yea why? :o but cafeteria food sure sounds good rn :’(_

Tsukishima can’t believe the madness he’s putting up with. With himself, all of the people. That’s him, Tsukishima Kei. Once the smartest being on earth now reduced to a romance crazed human. He throws the blanket to the side with a gruff, silly him and this festival in his chest. Tsukishima doesn’t bother fixing his hair, not even checking it on the mirror. He’s slipping back into his black Nike NXT’s and glasses, keys in hand and door swinging shut in a fly.

He gets the same unoriginal looks from the cafeteria workers. Tsukishima gets his items on the go, the first time in all of his university days. Yamaguchi’s taking all of his firsts without even asking. Tsukishima willingly offers it on a silver platter, a feast by choice. Hinata told him what floor and number Yamaguchi’s room is, for god knows what for but now it’s become a handy information. Tsukishima feels the vibrations from his cellular, averting his focus to somewhere else.

Tsukishima doesn’t receive the stares when he gets to Yamaguchi’s building. He finds the irony too late. The elevator he almost misses but at least someone held it out for him, seriously the people here are much nicer than theirs. Tsukishima clicks on the button on the right for the fifth floor. The ding wakes him up back to the real world, almost getting off the wrong floor. Tsukishima wipes at his eyes under lenses. This is bullshit.

Tsukishima knocks with his forefinger, three times. He hears the shuffling inside, followed by a ‘who is it?’. The door is swinging open and Yamaguchi is wearing casual garments.

“Tsukishima-kun????? What are you doing here???? I thought you fell asleep.” Yamaguchi lets him inside with no hints of hesitation.

Tsukishima hasn’t visited anyone’s dorm room, ever. Another first. He’s removed his sneakers, handing the food to Yamaguchi. The latter shoos him off towards his part of the space, commenting at the bags under his eyes and making it harder for them to conceal it later on.

“It’s givenchy.” Tsukishima finds a half couch and sits on it. Once his back meets the cushion, sleep takes advantage of him. He finds himself in a tug of war, on the ends of trying to stay awake against falling into slumber.

“Nap on the bed, not on my couch. C’mon.”

Tsukishima’s back on his feet, not entirely sure why this is happening. He can’t hear anything save for his heartbeat pounding through the roof. Tsukishima rests his glasses on the flat of Yamaguchi’s bedside drawer. He doesn’t dive into the bed just yet. Tsukishima sits on the edge for a good minute or two. His mind is both empty and raging with a hurricane. What is he doing? Why is he here? Yamaguchi spots him again, expression unreadable.

“You look like you’re about to collapse. Sleep.”

Tsukishima’s thumbing at his nape, mouth packed with questions and confessions.

“Tsukishima-kun, what is this about?”

His mind is too occupied trying to send him off to dreamland to have this talk. But that’s what Tsukishima wants, isn’t it? This irrationality that’s ruling above him. If he knew he was going to fall in knees deep for Yamaguchi Tadashi he would have rejected the part time. His reasons include not ready for a heart attack or dealing with the attraction that came with it. If he knew university is where he discovers his first love, Tsukishima might have chosen to stay as a high school graduate. Why does it have to feel like an ailment rather than a christmas celebration?

Tsukishima begins to crawl into the mattress, finding a position best to fit him. When he does, his back is facing Yamaguchi. “Wish I knew. Because it’s making me do all sorts of stupid things.” Love is not supposed to be frustrating. However, if you’re Tsukishima Kei, then it’s bound to become the longest migraine of your existence. Yamaguchi is silent, like the rest of the world. Tsukishima closes his eyes. For once, he can have his peace.

Tsukishima stirs up to Yamaguchi’s voice in the background. The digital clock on his left says 6:54PM, but he doesn’t remember having one like it. It dawns to Tsukishima where he’s currently at and how he got here. The buzzing in his pocket is non stop. 

“Yea, he’s awake. Talk to you later.” Yamaguchi is easing into the bedside with a semi troubled look. It’s a first, Tsukishima counts it. It doesn’t feel like a win. He gets into a sitting position, rubbing away the remnants of slumber from the corners of his eyes. Surprisingly, he’s calmer now. Must be the sleep. He plucks his glasses from the side table, slipping it on to see clearly.

“Good nap?” Yamaguchi takes the space beside him.

Tsukishima has long thrown away the idea of them having any personal space in between each other. “Yea. Sorry about that.” He tugs his handheld out to check how many messages and missed calls Kageyama must have sent or dialed him.

**Tobio**  
_15 messages_

**Tobio**  
_7 missed calls_

Yamaguchi’s chuckles are like cotton candy. Soft and sugary. “I was just on the phone with him. He said ah okay then I told him you were awake. He’s like cool then ended the call.”

Tsukishima wants to erase himself from this earth including Kageyama Tobio. He doesn’t bother reading the messages from him either. Tsukishima swipes right on the box to clear the notifications, that’ll keep it from vibrating again. He hides the device in his pocket. There’s no other way to go on about the situation than to just deal with it head on. Tsukishima’s headspace is neater, still buffering but what’s the use if Yamaguchi is around?

“You said you needed help?” Tsukishima’s heart weakens when he takes the first look.

“Right! I finished editing a video and I want third party opinions. Someone outside my major! Hinata’s got good eyes and I trust him but he’s so unreachable these days.” Yamaguchi is tapping on his lip. There it is, that thinking gesture.

Tsukishima doesn’t know how to answer that last part. He knows nothing. “I’m not sure how I can help other than to give comments.”

“Comments are deeply appreciated! I need to upload new content on instagram too.” Yamaguchi’s definitely suggesting something here, with his eyes and lips looking so cheeky. Tsukishima’s being held against his will, how can he possibly say no to this?

“It’d be an honor to serve your sixty thousand followers.” Tsukishima gets a tiny shove from Yamaguchi, finding himself chuckling shortly along with him.

“We got some work to do then! But first, dinner. How does fried ginger pork sound?”

“Good. Delivery?”

“Always. Bathroom’s open if you need to shower.” Yamaguchi dips from the bed. Tsukishima’s definition of normal has been off tracked since he entered university. Meeting Hinata completely reset what normal was and is at the present. Tsukishima meeting Yamaguchi this summer is anything beyond normal. There is no rationality in meeting Yamaguchi. Using his bathroom is without a doubt under the spectrum of abnormal slash what the fuck am I doing with my life?

Tsukishima is not awkward. At first look, he is still waters and fine cut grass. Under pressure, set to the highest boiling point, Tsukishima is like everyone else. He is as mortal as these human pods we call bodies. Tsukishima’s body reaction to entering said bathroom is and will always be Fergie's historical song named clumsy.

Needless to say, at exactly 8:27 PM, standing in front of the university gates is Tsukishima looking like an 80’s gigolo (it's not a gigolo look Tsukishima-kun) with rolled up cash in his palm. The delivery driver hands him their meal, Tsukishima exchanges it with the money Yamaguchi gave him. He doesn’t miss the ‘thank you, sir’ the driver gives him, saluting away on his moped.

Velvet jackets are starting to become his taste and Tsukishima can only blame Yamaguchi’s influence over him. The chiffon button down that feigns his body’s silhouette irks him most, with the first two buttons undone revealing his chest. Though not as much as the snakeskin pointed toe chelsea boots Yamaguchi picked out especially for him. It’s the key point, he emphasizes. It gave Tsukishima an increase of height, making it harder for Yamaguchi to apply his makeup because ‘I can’t do it if we’re not at the same level’.

Tsukishima finds himself half sitting on a ledge, legs stretched out so Yamaguchi can inch into him as legally as he’s allowed to. It’s super very legal alright. Tsukishima watches his face under limited lighting, facial expressions and the contours of Yamaguchi’s face diligently transforming as he smears on the foundation on Tsukishima’s skin.

“Is it going to matter when it’s so dark out?”

“Yes it’ll show up on camera. Do you know how frustrating it is to have models who have a different face skin tone from their necks? It’s infuriating.” 

“It sounds like it.”

It takes all the control there is in the world for Tsukishima not to move even the slightest. He carelessly forgets to breathe at one second. Keeping his eyes closed to let the liner dry is hiking up the tension in his stomach, strangely thinking when he opens his eyes Yamaguchi will be there in the closest he can be.

Tsukishima opens his eyes on command and Yamaguchi breaks all of his expectations. The final touches for this certain gigolo look (stop calling it gigolo look Tsukishima-kun it’s supposed to be hip) is a fake lip piercing on the middle of his bottom lip and a small silver chain on his neck. Tsukishima’s hair is parted with a portion of it waxed to the side. 

“A hip gigolo.” Yamaguchi slaps him on the shoulder this time.

Tsukishima has fairly gotten used to the clicks and snap of a camera. He can finally say he won’t be caught making stupid candid faces for the next ten years. Yamaguchi takes him to the blind spots of the university, walls and walkways that make a decent background for photos. These are for personal use so go do you, Yamaguchi said.

Tsukishima doesn’t indulge in arts like Yamaguchi does. But for some reason, he just wants to be the muse Yamaguchi sees him as. Only tonight, he’ll cross that line. Tsukishima gives Yamaguchi wider strides of arms and legs. Hooded moody eyes and taunting the camera to come closer. Yamaguchi seizes all of these moments seamlessly.

He doesn’t know how Yamaguchi ended up fitting into his median, his back pressed on Tsukishima’s chest, scanning together the imagery. Doesn’t know when this type of actions have undergone the security checks to be classified as allowed. Tsukishima’s heart is ironically at ease. Why now? What changed?

Tsukishima thinks the biggest mistake here is thinking Hinata and his connections throughout uni are huge. Yamaguchi laughs at his face, unlocking a classroom in the tech building at 10:02PM because they have the coolest projectors than all of us. (Some of these classrooms have a microwave, the audacity—I want a microwave too)

Yamaguchi introduces to him the side project he’s been considering to play once the runway show begins. To set the ambience before the spectacle begins. For a bio major, Tsukishima can only try and make due with side interpretations from his own opinions. The last two months of film jargons, tiny photography lessons and familiarizing himself with tools wouldn’t really count as a half point of a credential.

“That’s what I’m looking for. A perspective like yours.”

And it touches Tsukishima deeply, in a sense it shouldn’t be. Yours doesn’t automatically mean yours only. It can mean the next person that’s like him, no knowledge of this world and taking a different major. Yamaguchi didn’t specifically say he wants to know what Tsukishima thinks of it. He asked for his help but if it was someone else who took the job, maybe Yamaguchi would have asked them too.

It makes total sense to break your own heart over your own assumption.

They eat dinner a bit late, having the need to heat it up first next door to take advantage of said microwave. Yamaguchi savors his food like a king. Pairing up food items to spice up his own course, using sauces and mixing up the oils in his rice. He doesn’t forget to make Tsukishima try it, feeding him from his own set of utensils. Tsukishima keeps on dumping his share in Yamaguchi’s bowl so he can magically make it taste better. Take out hasn’t tasted this delicious in forever.

The sequencing of Yamaguchi’s self produced video is sublime. One of the words Tsukishima tells him out of the many he’s trying to nitpick in his semi functioning brain. It’s more than great, it’s grand. The intricacies, foreshadowing, vague throw downs and slow motions. Shifts of monochrome to purple highlights, reds and 180 degrees upside down view. It’s everything from broken beer bottles to seasons changing in naked eye.

“Could be just the projector.”

“Stop. It’s really beautiful.”

Tsukishima feels he’s being taken upon a giant slingshot. From earthly grounds to peak stratosphere. Overwhelmed yet breathtaking. It ends at three minutes and thirty one seconds. Tsukishima’s high is as clear as a breezy afternoon. The room is lit only with the lamp post shadows from outside, neither of them are moving. 

“Tsukishima-kun.”

“Mm?”

“What are we doing?”

In retrospect, Tsukishima knows he hasn’t been the smoothest at hiding his crush slash first love from Yamaguchi. In turn, the photographer himself made it harder to do so. In times Kageyama would appear in Tsukishima’s head and the only time he thinks of him is because of those three words he uttered.

It’s not ‘are you stupid’ though it’s in the top 10.

“Me, making a fool out of myself. You, watching me.”

Tsukishima doesn’t want to use any excuses. Doesn’t want to take left or right turns. Doesn’t know how to be in a relationship. Doesn’t want the summer to end.

“Is that what you think this is?” 

Tsukishima decided that if he moves his foot ever so slightly into that line of breaking the fourth wall, he won’t mind the domino effect. Not in this life. Not when Yamaguchi’s staring at him, with all the yearning in his eyes. Like he’s edging at Tsukishima to do something. _Anything_.

“I think I’m in love with you, Yamaguchi.”

And at exactly 11:16PM, Tsukishima’s wonder never ceases, especially at the query of why he never thought of kissing Yamaguchi. Or why he thought Yamaguchi wouldn’t kiss him back. Because he is. In a classroom found in the seventh floor of the tech building in the corner right of their university.

Tsukishima touches him, in the ways he’s dreamt of. A thumb gliding on freckled skin, almost helpless and unsure. Yamaguchi is patient, has always been. Steady and giving. Tsukishima, a mere speck in comparison to him, has nothing to cherish except Yamaguchi in their ambiguous defined moments.

Has nothing but the wants in his chest.

So he takes Yamaguchi in this form—mouths slanting to ignite a supernova.

Yamaguchi Tadashi’s lips are flowers blooming in the east. A new type of euphoria only nature can glee upon at first sight. Tsukishima indulges, slowly, into the epiphany that is breath, teeth and tongue. Into Yamaguchi, a fountain of his heart’s desire. Under dim lights, Tsukishima marvels at the glory of Yamaguchi’s entirety. 

Under these lights, he commits.

—

Tsukishima’s worn more clothes in the last three months than he has in half of his life. The amount of fabric names he’s memorized in the few months of the part time job is now a separate bin in his mind. Left for future use. He’s gotten way better fashion sense now, according to Yamaguchi.

“Seriously I can trust you shopping by yourself and not worry even a little bit.”

Tsukishima stares at him over the tempura in his mouth.

“Okay maybe a wee bit. Your color theory still sucks.”

Hinata makes vomiting noises in the background. Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “Neutrals aren’t bad.”

Yamaguchi waving his fork full of wet spaghetti is hazardous and should be illegal. “If the situation calls for it.”

Tsukishima doesn’t know if he gained a boyfriend this summer or has summoned forth a new type of demon. Tsukishima is so close to saying words that Yamaguchi will make him regret later on. The cafeteria meets are rowdier than usual, with the addition of Yamaguchi and Hinata being permanent as well. Tsukishima hasn’t asked Kageyama about it, assuming he would have been told by now. 

“So you guys are dating dating now?” Tsukishima sets the question in unlike how they would usually save it when it’s just the two of them. With their recent changes, however, Tsukishima doesn’t see Kageyama as often.

“You didn’t tell him? We’ve been dating since he dyed his hair blue.” Hinata’s facial response is as accurate as it can be.

Tsukishima is baffled. That was two months ago. “Were you trying to one up me all this time by not telling me you’ve been dating Hinata? That’s damn low Tobio.”

“But I win don’t I? You don’t get to say shit now.”

Tsukishima watches with a bemused look as Kageyama and Hinata take all of their trays back to the cleaners. He peers over at Yamaguchi who’s been silent during that parade. Tsukishima sees the floating halo on his head and he’s not buying it. “You knew?”

Yamaguchi flashes him a cheeky smile. “Maybe.” Of course he knew, Hinata probably called right after it happened.

Exiting the same cafeteria almost everyday is as regular as it can get for Tsukishima. In a few days, classes will be back on track and these hallways are going to meet their doom again. Can’t say he’s really up for another semester of sorrow and deep into human anatomy, after experiencing such a unique summer such as this one.

With the runway show successfully hitting the road, Tsukishima’s been getting social interactions from strangers side to side. This one guy literally pulls up a video on his cellular and it’s Tsukishima strutting it on the strip. He asks ‘this you?’ with boring eyes. Tsukishima says ‘yea’ and the stranger’s lips pull on one side. ‘Nice ass’, then goes his way. Tsukishima was mortified.

He’s collected more momentos, such as those popular leather princetown slip ons. Tsukishima found them strange at first, moving his feet and feeling his toes in them. Yamaguchi thinks it fits his casual norm, more than the Nike collection he and Kageyama got going in their shoe rack back at their dorm. Tsukishima hums, going into class with these on makes it less of a hassle. Well, he can pretend it will be.

Kageyama got to keep the skateboard. He’s become more approachable with students after for some unknown reason. Tsukishima thinks it’s a charmer. Hinata tried to trip him too many times to count.

Yamaguchi’s hair is the shade of neverland. Tsukishima doesn’t comment on it. In secrecy, however, he ran his fingers through Yamaguchi’s locks and said it suited him the most. Yamaguchi kisses him in return. He still doesn’t want to dye his hair mint, unfortunately. Yamaguchi dreams and dreams.

“What’s the next couple look going to be?”

“OH OH I WANNA SEE!!”

Yamaguchi is snickering. He’s found his way in Tsukishima’s life in directions north to south, west to east. He’s traced his way into the fine lines of Tsukishima’s not so easy going personality, leaving the smallest to the biggest imprint there is.

Like that oversized faux fur coat hanging in Tsukishima’s closet, waxing Mr. Boombastic. He’s not wearing that, ever. He doesn’t want to look like doflamingo, that evil birdman thing.

Tsukishima knows there’s a compilation video of him and Yamaguchi going around in the kingdom of the internet, similar to those of Chinese fashion tiktok ones but instead it’s in university. He doesn’t know how to feel about students taking a video of him and his boyfriend without his permission (it’s ok tsukki they like what they see) but they will have his lawyer on their doorstep very soon. 

The nickname is rubbing off in the worse ways a man can possibly handle it. ‘Tsukki’ this and ‘OI TSUKKI’ that. When it’s ‘tsuki’ accompanied with a dangerous smile, Tsukishima backs up a bit to let himself take a dozen gulps of oxygen. But when it’s ‘Tsukki’ swimming in daisies and lilacs, Tsukishima stills and holds his heart. Yamaguchi’s waves are independent, rocking him back and forth.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I will need to check on my color pinwheel to see! I’ve been into maroons lately!” Yamaguchi shows Hinata his future plans of matching color schemes with Tsukishima.

Kageyama bumps his side onto the blonde. “Maroons. Hurray.” Tsukishima leers at him. Him getting riled up so easily and Kageyama being this sassy is an obvious design of their years of alliance, absorbing your best friend’s habits and persona itself is included. No take backs.

People are definitely staring at Tsukishima. He can feel the burning holes on his back. They’ve seen them—the imagery, videos and the culmination. Most of the eyes lingering at him have seen this underlying animal resting beneath his glacial appearance. Be it that certain shot of him pseudo kicking the camera or him dropping the lit lighter on the trails of gas—it’s all of Tsukishima.

And he wants everyone to remember.

The shocking revelation of people actually caring about Yamaguchi dating him was another type of cultural reset. Tsukishima wasn’t that horrified that people assumed he was straight, it struck him most when they also presumed Kageyama was the same. Seriously? Have you seen him (tsuki it’s ok let’s go~) look at Hinata?

They’re back at the auditorium to help with the clean up. The unified groans are expected, of course. Yamaguchi has to go over the thousands of clothes, basically recounting and rechecking if most of them are here. He files the missing ones as ‘accidents’ and ‘I apologize you know how it is’ with smiley stickers that Tsukishima can’t bear to watch.

Yachi’s handing out the summer edition magazine pre-release to all of them. Her skin lightly bronzed up and sparkling.

“How was the beach Yacchan?”. Yamaguchi envelops her in a massive hug.

Yachi meets the gesture with one arm clutching at the printed works, the other on Yamaguchi’s back. They separate after a second of warmth. “It was nice!!! We ate tons of ice cream and watermelon!! I’ll show you pics later!!”

“Can’t wait!! LOOK HINATA I TOLD YOU-“

Hinata’s on the floor, laughing at what seems to be the front cover of the magazine. Kageyama’s not having any of it, as it turns out they’re roaring about him and a matter Tsukishima does not have any dirt about. Yachi’s trying to console him, with a hand on her mouth, trying to stifle her own laughter. Tsukishima’s looking around to see the area, the good kind of alive and the puzzle pieces intact.

To this, Tsukishima thinks, yes this is why I said yes in the first place.

**Author's Note:**

> If you’ve come this far, thank you so much!!! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!!
> 
> find me on [twt!!](%E2%80%9Cwww.twitter.com/mtskwa%E2%80%9D) don’t let my tendo pfp scare u ples dhdhsj 
> 
> To eri, the unrivaled, only Yamaguchi to my tsukishima, I’m bad at hiding secrets so imagine the pain of hiding this from you dgdhfh I started this two days before your birthday (not knowing about tskym week so technically I’m cheating lol) thinking ill b done by then lol I was foolin myself shhdhd belated happy birthday !! This ain’t yer soup in the mailbox, this is canned beans LOL ily man I appreciate u sm <3 thank u for tolerating all this mess dhdh


End file.
